The land of Mists (contest submission story)

[Manofevil]

To the Solamnic Knightly Council:
Linaras, Reapember 6, 359 AC

My name is Merrick Marcusa.
I am a Knight of Solamnia.
...And I am lost.

I do not know exactly how I came to be here or what this place is. The people speak
languages unheard in Solamnia. The night is stalked by creatures only barely conceived of . And
perhaps strangest of all, the stars are different. I see none of the planets we know and the
moons have disappeared. Most peculiar are the stars. I studied astronomy when I was younger
and I see none of the constellations I know should be there. Could I have come to a completely
different world? These and a thousand other questions consume me when I am not fighting for
my life or making poor attempts to speak the language. I can trust no one here. In every eye I
see fear, grief, hatred, mistrust, even madness. What could plague this land that there could be
so little that is good?
I am reminded of Ansalon in the time before the Dragon War. Wickedness marshalling
across the land. Seekers preaching against the Knights, the Elves, the Dwarves, and any
memory of the true gods. Yea, These same true Gods who I was taught to revere, to honor, to
emulate, as I was Huma. These Gods whose presence I later felt when we returned to them-
these Gods I can feel no more. All my life I had lived without them only to find them returned to
me. And now again I find them beyond me. I never realized how much comfort I had come to
take from their presence. What power could so muffle my prayers as to make them inaudible to
my Gods, or worse still, What could prevent them from acting upon my prayers having heard
them. I never dreamed I could miss them so much.
I am often tempted to condemn them as so many others did after the Cataclysm. Still I
am a Knight and a Knight is true to his oaths regardless. Indeed our gods could have fallen from
the sky and I would still be true to the principles they espoused. I may have no Gods, no Order,
and no family here but I still have my Honor. and My Honor is My Life.
Est Sularus Oth Mithas!

[Manofevil]

An hour ago I began this journal in the hope that it would one day be returned to Solamnia if I do not survive to do so. It occurred to me that I should outline the experiences which I had getting here. However it happened.
I need not list the horrors committed by the Dragonarmies during the war. When the Red Wing invaded through the Throtyl pass in the year 351 and rent the Solamnic Plain in two, they left a trail of destruction behind them of truly cataclysmic proportions. Every village between the pass and the cities of Solanthus and Thelgaard was reduced to scorched earth and the people butchered or enslaved. It is still debated which group of people were luckier in their fate. The Red Dragons, with their terrible appetites for destruction, left almost no structure standing and no field unburned. The bodies of both the living and the dead were made their meals- often, in front of relatives.
My mission, as assigned by the council three months ago, was to assess the damage left from the Dragon War and investigate any damage or suspicious occurrences after the War of The Blue Lady five years ago. I was chosen for this duty because of my past studies of the draconians and my development of countermeasures against them, most notably the development of the overhead one-piece breastplate with shoulder guards which countered one of the draconians favored attacks of biting an enemy in the neck and collarbone- the so-called draconian kiss. In the past three months, I have heard more stories of horror and tales of heartbreak than I ever dreamed I could bear. My heart bled for those poor people. I felt every one of their sorrows as a burden on my soul. Yet, thankfully, those terrible events seemed left exclusively in the past...with one exception.
Prior to the Dragon War, sivak draconians used their shape shifting abilities to infiltrate communities of all sort all across Solamnia. More so, I think, than in any other land later besieged in the war. Whether they were ordered to or not, these vipers penetrated these communities in the most intimate ways imaginable. Husbands or wives were murdered and replaced and then murdered their spouses in the marital beds. Beloved children were murdered and replaced to then murder their playmates. Entire families were found murdered by people who they’d thought they’d known their entire lives. These murders usually included the draconians feasting on their victims corpses. The most disturbing account came from a girl who couldn’t have seen six summers when her ordeal began. She was tall and blonde and claimed to be about 16, though she looked to be older. Her face was worn and haggard and lined from weeping. Her clothing was plain and well worn- not at all like others her age. I could tell this one took no pleasure in anything. Her trials had clearly ground her spirit down to nothing and this was just what I could tell from her appearance.
We met in an inn in a town south of Solanthus. This girl asked that we sit in a private room so that she need not outline her suffering in front of others. She also asked that I not refer to by her entire name, either in my reports or afterward, so I shall again refer to her by the name Anna. I shall reiterate her story in case my final reports were lost in my transition to this strange land.
Anna was very young in 351. Her parents were both farm folk from the region and well liked by their neighbors. Anna’s world was destroyed on a sunny spring morning when her mother went to market. Anna had just gotten old enough to help her parents around the farm and relished her duties. Anna felt the need to outline every mundane task she performed that day and I decided to let her do so. The way she described it, it was clear that she was recalling the last happy day of her life. She remembered her mother being somewhat different when she came home. She failed to scold her daughter for leaving the door open, she kissed her father’s bearded face where normally she always waited until he shaved, and she spilled the soup. She was always careful with food. Anna was sent to bed early that night. She woke up in the night and went for a cup of water. When she passed by her parents’ room, she saw something that would haunt her for the rest of her days: a gray dragon creature wearing shreds of her mother’s nightgown feasting on her father’s corpse. Anna wept as she described the scene. Blood drenched the bed. The draconian squatted over the corpse tearing at the entrails and shoveled them into its own blood drenched mouth. Her father’s ribs poked up from the mattress and perhaps worst of all, her father’s head was turned to the side so that his open eyes looked straight at the open door young Anna stood in. It is this vision which most haunted her nightmares in the following years…and her ordeal that night wasn’t even over. She said that she had no idea how long she stood there before the draconian turned suddenly toward her. The look in its eyes was the only thing that ever gave her more nightmares than that in her dead father’s eyes. The girl ran for her life but the draconian caught her at the front door. It was then that the worst of her ordeal began. Anna told me that most of what happened next came back too her in fragments in the years afterwards. She wept even harder as she remembered the details. The draconian grabbed her by the front of her nightdress, lifted her off her feet, and pinned her to the door. It then licked her all over her face with its long tongue. It forced her mouth open and stuck that tongue down her throat. It talked the whole time, but Anna could never remember what it said. It hauled her into her parents’ bedroom and forced her face first into her father’s remains. It forced some of the blood into her mouth and then forced a piece of her father’s flesh down her throat. It then……molested her. She had no idea for how long. It licked her up the side of her face one last time and promised to return for her one day before it finally left her. She was found, I learned from others, wandering the fields some time later in her torn nightgown and covered in her father’s blood. There were rumblings among the villagers that she was some sort of changeling that had replaced the girl and devoured her parents. Open talk of burning her at the stake, however, was fortunately precluded by reports of sivaks being exposed in other towns. It was right around this time that the invasion proper began and the villagers all became refugees fleeing north and the entire matter became lost in the general chaos. She somehow, found her way to an uncle who welcomed her into his house. The draconian, however, somehow managed to find her again, once when she was 10, and then again, when she was 14. At this point in her narrative, the poor girl was completely overcome and I was not far behind her. She begged me to kill the sivak that did this to her. She pleaded so loudly that she couldn’t hear me swearing to do so. At this point, her uncle burst in and demanded that the interview end. He said he would stand for no more of his nieces suffering. As he pushed her out the door, she continued to entreat me to kill the draconian. I found myself swearing, rather loudly and publicly, that I would find the draconian and that she would NEVER suffer at its hands again. I told a fellow knight, one Sir Edward Archer, when he asked why I’d been so rash, that if I could not bring this poor girl some small amount of peace, I would gladly surrender my sword and armor and accept the monk’s robe, for I was CLEARLY useless as a knight. I still feel this way.

I am afraid that this particular draconian became something of an obsession for me. That very day I took up residence at that inn and began poring over my reports, looking for any others who might have been this draconians … victims. I found some cases with similarities, but nothing quite the same- nothing that might put me on the trail of this particular draconian. Some part of me KNEW this was insane. How was I to find this one draconian in all of Solamnia? He could be anyone, anywhere. At the same time, I had no doubt that this was exactly what my mission was meant to do: to further unearth the methods of our enemies and possibly create countermeasures. This was exactly what was needed: a countermeasure. I had to draw this one out, somehow. Sadly, as I would learn later, this enemy was already one step ahead of me.
Three days later, I was still poring over my notes and studying everything I could find on draconians when a man came to me to inform me that a neighbor of his had begun to act strangely. Apparently, this neighbor had been the son of a druid and devoted follower of Chislev, yet he began to cut down the trees on his land. This was not conduct which would feed any of the dark gods or their followers, but I was hungry for a lead and decided to investigate it. I am afraid that, to my disgrace, I have forgotten this poor mans name in the days since. It shall later become apparent why.
Regardless, we had not gone ten feet outside of the inn before we were accosted by Anna. Again in tears, she begged us to let her come along. We tried to turn her away but she insisted. She said she wanted her revenge more than anything. I tried to tell her that revenge was not the way of the knighthood and if she wanted it, she would never get it from me. She still would not be put off. She begged, entreated, reasoned, and finally demanded to come along. I ultimately acceded only because it occurred to me that given the state she was in, she would probably follow us and get herself into trouble. Better to bring her along and keep an eye on her, I thought. In retrospect, I probably should have taken her call for revenge as a change in behavior. Looking back on it, what happened next was entirely my fault.
We set out for our destination with no further discussion. The man led the way, followed by Anna, with me bringing up the rear. I confess that I was far too preoccupied with the prospective battle to be on guard for enemies within the ranks. When we finally reached the house of the man’s neighbor, I could see what had concerned the man. The trees had not been cut in any noticeable pattern. The land was not being cleared. Nothing was being built. The woodcutting seemed confused and disorganized. I asked my companions to hold back whilst I approached the house. This proved to be my final mistake. For I hadn’t moved three yards from them when I heard a dry ripping sound, followed by a wet ripping and a gurgle. I turned around to see a sight which will stay with me to my death: a sivak draconian standing with the poor man’s throat in its jaw and blood gushing from between its teeth. The horror of it froze me for a crucial moment as I was drawing my sword and the draconian pounced upon me, wrapping its jaws around my shoulder and neck. There was a loud grinding sound as the creature tried to bite through my special breastplate. I collapsed onto my back. I had been in the process of drawing my sword so my sword arm was pinned to my midsection. I withdrew my other hand from my shield to draw my dagger. The draconian felt my movement and leapt from me, releasing my shoulder. My special breastplate had worked perfectly. I drew my sword and looked around for the creature. I had expected it to attack me on my back. Apparently it knew that we knights had been taught to defend ourselves from this position. The bushes began to rustle and the draconian began to laugh.
“Trapped on your back like an upended turtle, aren’t you? Did you like my little fondling, knight? I found her taste as sweet as her screams.”
“And how did you like the taste of my armor lizard? Would you like another or haven’t you the teeth for it.” I heard a small growl from the creature when I used one of the Dragonarmies soldiers’ slurs for draconians.
“My teeth will be the last thing you ever see knight!” The creature said through clenched teeth.
“Then come and claim your meal, creature, if you have the courage, or have you only the belly for little girls and old men?” I taunted.
The draconian roared and charged from above my head as I expected it would. It had somehow gained leather armor, a helm, and serrated blade, apparently hidden beforehand. I had walked face first into a trap. The draconian, however was charging headfirst into mine. I brought my blade up at the last moment, both blocking its blow and driving the point straight into the creature’s abdomen. It hadn’t taken the time to strap on its armor so I drew blood. In the moment that its injury distracted it, I seized the point of the creature’s blade with my off hand and rolled myself onto my front and pushed with both arms to put the creature off balance. The creature stumbled and I released its blade and pulled mine from its wound so I could push on the ground with both fists and get my knees under me. I came up on my knees and simultaneously raised my blade to block the blow I knew the creature was striking at my head. I balled my left fist and struck the creature in the midsection, aggravating its wound without intending to, and forced the creature to retreat. I planted my boot and regained my feet. I finally faced the draconian on even ground. The draconian looked frightened for the first time and I remembered the Measure.
“Draconian,” I said, “I give you the chance to surrender. My last blow was injudicious and dishonorable. If you surrender I give you my knightly word that you will be treated as any prisoner would be under the Measure.”
“And what of the pretty oath you swore to my little lover? I was in the room when you swore that, you know. Does that count for nothing?” taunted the draconian. I stiffened when the creature mentioned this, but again, I remembered the Measure.
“She is dead because I failed to protect her from you. I failed because I didn’t anticipate your… actions. The fault is mine.” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Well then,” smiled the draconian, “perhaps I will take your offer. Tell me, do you think any of my other little lovers will miss me? There were so many others. I found them…” I was attacking before I knew it. The creature barely blocked my attacks. If anyone from the knighthood does find this account, they may consider it my confession to conduct unbecoming of a knight and if I survive to return home afterward, I will answer according to the Measure. I slashed at the draconian in a frenzy, driving it back off guard. It had clearly been surprised by my fury, but not so surprised as to forget its plan. It spun with one of my attacks and used it tail to whip around and strike me in the back of my head. I stumbled forward, but rather than fall flat I ran forward, as we are taught to do when we struck from behind, and kept going until I could regain my balance. I had somehow lost my sword. I knew the creature was right behind me so I spun, striking with both my elbows and fists as I had been taught by the masters at the Monastery of Majere when I was young. My right arm batted aside its blade and my left fists lodged in its open mouth right in the corner where its teeth caught themselves in my mail gauntlet. We were trapped together. The creature began to laugh again and slash at me with its claws. I hit it again and it lashed its tongue in my face, reminding me of poor Anna’s story, and my frenzy reawakened. I began hitting the draconian in the face as hard as I could with my free fist. Some of its teeth came free and its blood flowed freely and still I hit it. It fell over onto its back dragging me with it and Still I hit it. My left fist came free with its teeth still caught in the mail and STILL I hit it, then all I remember is…Mist.
When the mist cleared I looked down at my own face, shattered toothless, and covered with green draconian blood. The creature had died and, like all sivaks, had changed shape into the form of the one that killed it. It was one of their more insidious traits- a final stab at those who defeat them. There are stories of the corpses of the draconians being buried in their killer’s graves while their killers languish in Dragonarmy prisons. I found myself idly wondering how many there had been… then several things hit me at once. I remembered poor Anna. I had failed her. She begged me to protect her and I failed. I swore on my honor to protect her and I failed. What good was a knight or his oaths if they could not prevent such suffering? What good were MY oaths under any circumstances? I had broken the Measure! I had attacked a surrendering enemy after promising it safe passage. I would be tried and banished if I was lucky for this and I deserved it, if only for what happened to Anna.
I have no idea how long I knelt there, weeping over my losses before I finally composed myself enough to take action. I knew I would have to bring the evidence of my dishonor into town so I stood up and looked around for materials to build a stretcher. It was then that I noticed that I wasn’t where I had been. The trees were much taller and the sun only just shined through the overhanging branches. There was no sign of the remains of the man who’d led us here or of the cottage we’d come to investigate. I then remembered the Mists. I assumed at the time that the Draconian had activated some spell to transport us to someplace else. I have since revised that opinion. I gathered my sword and shield and scouted around hoping to find some sign of life. The forest looked fairly unremarkable but seemed quieter than it should have. I assumed myself to be in Dragonarmy territory and moved as quietly and discretely as I could. I came upon a child gathering berries- hardly the sort of thing one finds behind Dragonarmy lines. I followed the child to a small village. There were no soldiers, no goblins, no ogres, no draconians, no sign of the Dragonarmies at all. There was no village in all of Ansalon under the boot of the Dragonarmies that wasn’t garrisoned in some way. I decided to approach one of the villagers. I noticed a man carrying two buckets of water and called out to him. I was not prepared for what happened next. Everyone in the village stopped what they were doing and stared at me…as if I were something they’d never seen before. I shrugged off my discomfort and asked the man in common what the name of this land was. He eyes widened and he shook his head. He clearly didn’t know what I was saying. I tried again in solamnic, but he still didn’t understand me. I tried what little elven I knew and then dwarven. He still didn’t understand. The man addressed me in his own language and I couldn’t understand a word of it. I was stymied. I didn’t know what to do. I looked around and everyone was still staring. I came to some realizations. This village, whatever difficulties I might face there, was clearly no Dragonarmy stronghold and as such, would clearly be safe enough for the night at least. I was a knight and I had dishonored myself. I was, therefore, duty bound to present evidence of that dishonor to my superiors. I pulled off my blood-soaked gauntlet and offered my hand to the man to shake. This was apparently a universal gesture for the man shook my hand. I nodded to the man the other villagers with what I hoped was a look of gratitude and reentered the forest. I had to retrieve the corpse of my dishonorably killed enemy before I could rest for the day. I retraced my trail to the place where I had… arrived. There I found only the bloodstain where the draconian had fallen and no trail to indicate where it had been taken. It was like it had never happened except for the stain. I didn’t know what to make of this. Wolves and birds won’t feed on dead sivak corpses. It’s one of the ways we discovered to tell our dead apart from theirs. What animal would haul away a corpse without leaving a trail? What human would? I decided that someone must have found it so I returned to town to see if I could somehow learn more. Again, everyone stared as I walked into town. There was no hatred in their eyes, as a knight might face in a place such as Tarsis, only puzzlement and fear, not even the suspicion and challenging gestures that a stranger might inspire. It didn’t occur to me until much later that they might never have seen a knight before. I located an inn by the sign hanging in front of it and entered hoping to secure lodgings. I again spoke to the innkeeper in every language I could think of and again had no luck. I made gestures to indicate eating and drinking and he nodded in response but rubbed his fingers together indicating he would need money. I pulled out my purse and offered him steel. He refused it and held up a gold coin indicating what he would need. Gold, there is not a place in all of Ansalon that still uses gold coins. I shrugged off my disbelief and offered the man a silver coin hoping that would do. He nodded and accepted it. I decided to forgo a meal and retreat to my room and assess my situation. The barmaid showed me to my room and poured a bowl of water for me on the room’s small table. I gestured that she should leave the bucket with the water and dismissed her. I sat down on the bed and would have laid my head in my hands except my gauntlets were still covered in draconian blood. My left one still had teeth stuck in it. Cleaning them would be a real task, especially without a scrub brush. It occurred to me then that I couldn’t clean them. They were proof of my dishonor. I could hide them, Say I lost them. No one would ever know- no one but me. No, I was too much a knight to further dishonor myself with lies and deceptions. A dishonorable knight such as Derek Crownguard might have engaged in such practices but I would not. I took the gauntlets off and swore then and there that even if I never saw home again I would dishonor myself no further. I got up, laid the gauntlets on the table and washed my hands in the bowl. The barmaid had kindly left a cake of soap and rag so I decided to clean myself as best I could. I pulled off my helmet and armor and set about the business of cleaning them and myself. …
…I have exhausted myself. I will finish my report on the morrow after I record that day’s events.
Est Sularus Oth Mithas.